Nanowrimo Bits - 11/15/19 (Patreon)

A snippet from today's Nanowrimo. It includes my favorite line in the project so far! See if you can guess which one it is --

“Nicely done, Hood.” Flannery was starting to think Conor’s power was the ability to just appear out of nowhere. It was really unfair how often they managed to scare her. “Seems like you really have started a revolution. Even if Ashe hated those two before, she never would have up and punched them before.” 

Which felt strange to Flannery. Ashe looked like the type of girl who took no shit and doled out justice as she saw fit. The fact that it took Flannery not only saying something, but punching first, said something about the hold the brothers had over the town. Even the people who weren’t Storied seemed to give them a wide berth. She wondered if that was part of their magic, the ability to just get what they wanted. It really bothered her. 

“It’s almost like everyone was stuck in some kind of prologue before I showed up,” Flannery muttered. “Like the story was waiting for all the players to arrive before it continued.”

Conor grinned at her, showing their particularly sharp canines. “I think you might be on to something, Hood.” 

“Am I?” Flannery had just been thinking aloud, not really giving much thought to the validity of her words. 

“Maybe,” Conor said. “It depends on how much stock you put in the idea that the town itself is magical, or if just the people are.” 

“Well, everyone was drawn here somehow,” Flannery said. “You could call that magic.”

“Yeah, you probably could.” Conor rubbed at their chin thoughtfully. 

It was a mystery, Flannery thought, how everyone ended up here. How did that start? And who with? What did that mean for everyone. Was it the magic of the other people that drew the Storied Folk to this place, or was it the place itself that was magical? She didn’t know, and wasn’t sure how to find out. 

“What should we do about it?” Flannery’s attention snapped back to the present when Conor asked that very important question.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“About the town. About the story. What should we do about it?” Conor asked, leaning across the bar to suddenly feel very close. 

What should they do about it? Flannery didn’t want to end up hurt or worse because of her story. And she definitely didn’t want that happening to her friends. She still didn’t even know who the Wolf was. What could she really do to fight someone when she didn’t even know who they were?

But who was to say the town’s story – their story – was the same as what the Brothers Grimm had in mind? Maybe they were destined for something else. Or maybe their destiny was in their own hands. They had magic, the ability for force great change. And even without that, they had fists. And punching destiny in its proverbial face sure sounded like it could work. 

Or, at the very least, she could punch Jacob and William Grimm until they finally left everyone alone.

“I don’t know about the town,” Flannery said. “But for now I’m just going to keep punching the Brothers Creep until they learn to keep their mouths shut about their precious fairy tales.” 

“A fair plan,” Conor agreed. “I hope it works out for you.” 

“Will you join us in our fist fight of justice?” Flannery asked, only half joking. 

Conor smiled, softer this time. “I just might. If the rebellion has a leader as cute as you, it can’t be all bad.”

Flannery froze, feeling her brain screech to a halt like a record in a comedy movie. What did they just say? Did they? Where they? Where they flirting with her? 

Conor grinned wolfishly, chuckling to themselves. “See you around, Hood.” 

They pushed off the bar counter, strutting – not walking! Strutting! – out the door. 

Flannery felt her knees give out on her and she slowly sank to the floor. Her hands went to her face, feeling the heat of her blush against her palms. She yelled wordlessly, the sound partially muffled by her hands, but not enough to not draw the attention of some of the patrons. Ashe popped up, half laying across the bar’s countertop to see what was going on.

“You okay?” she asked.

“No!” Flannery groaned, the sound long and drawn out. She looked up at Ashe, forcing her own hands away from her face. “How red am I? Be honest.”

Ashe gave a sympathetic half-smile, one corner of her lips quirking up towards her ear. “Redder than your hair, kiddo.” 

Flannery hid her face again, letting out a long, painful moan. “Oh my god!” 

Yuki popped up beside Ashe, practically sitting on the counter. “Don’t die on us, Flannery, we need you to lead the rebellion.”

“Too late,” Flannery said, her words still muffled by her hands. “I am dead. Dead and Conor has murdered me.” 

Ashe and Yuki exchanged a look of confusion.

“What did they do?” Yuki asked.

“They Flirted with me!” Flannery half shouted, half hissed. She could feel herself capitalizing ‘flirted’ with her voice. If she wasn’t freaking out she’d be impressed with herself. 

Ashe and Yuki exchanged another look, this one more disbelieving than anything. If Flannery wasn’t writhing with embarrassment, she’d think their synchronization was adorable. 

“That’s it?” Ashe asked, looking almost disappointed. 

Flannery made the vocal equivalent of a keyboard smash. “Don’t judge me, okay! I don’t know why I’m freaking out either!” 

“Has…has no one ever flirted with you before?” Yuki asked, sounding like she was bracing herself for a sad story.

“No, people definitely have,” Flannery said. “And they’ve done a way better job at it. I don’t even know, man!” 

“Oh, she’s brought out the ‘man’,” Ashe drawled. “She really must be freaking out.”

“You shut the hell up!” Flannery snapped, more out of embarrassment than actual anger, and Ashe seemed to realize that – at least if her giggle was any indication.

Yuki giggled also. “You’re adorable, Flannery.” 

Flannery just groaned and buried her face in her knees. She hated her friends.